


A question of trust

by Lothiriel84



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-07-23
Packaged: 2017-11-10 13:37:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fragile / Like a baby in your arms / Be gentle with me / I'd never willingly / Do you harm" (Depeche Mode) - Set somewhere in a Red John-free future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A question of trust

**Author's Note:**

> It can be read as a sequel to my "There and back again", but I actually wrote it as a separate story.

_Fragile_

_Like a baby in your arms_

_Be gentle with me_

_I'd never willingly_

_Do you harm_

She woke up to the pleasant feeling of his arm wrapped around her waist – and the warmth of his chest pressed against her back.

They'd been married for three weeks now, and she still marveled at how cuddly he was in his sleep.

She wondered whether he simply enjoyed their closeness, or if there was a deeper reason for his need of physical contact.

A couple of days ago she had come back from the bathroom in the middle of the night only to find him slightly panicking over her empty half of the bed. So she'd just lain down and snuggled closer to him – and he'd immediately calmed down, drifting once again towards sleep.

Perhaps he was secretly afraid of losing her. Afraid that she would suddenly walk away and leave him alone, without rhyme or reason to it.

She had a feeling that he was quite ashamed of his irrational fears – that's why he always denied them whenever she brought up the subject.

It was quite understandable though. He'd already lost his beloved ones once – and in the most painful way too. Not to mention the last nine years he'd spent looking over his shoulder for a deranged serial killer.

No wonder that he would be overprotective sometimes – and needed to be constantly reassured that she was still there at his side.

It wasn't like he didn't trust her. She knew that.

Curiously enough a conversation from some six years ago came back to her mind.

_I trust people. I trust you._

That's what he'd said before coaxing her into doing something as silly as a trust fall.

She hadn't believed him at the time – though events had proved her wrong later on. About the last part, at the very least.

She still had doubts about the fact that he trusted people in general. Given his not exactly idyllic past – from his childhood at the carnival to the tragedy that had befallen his family – she wondered how many people he'd actually come to trust in his entire life.

"Morning, my little princess."

With a chuckle she turned to face him. "I recall telling you not to use that corny nickname."

"It fits you. Why should I change it?"

"I'm no princess, Patrick – as you know perfectly well."

"Yes, you are. My angry little princess. At least you have your tiara now."

"I've also told you to return that thing to the jewelry store. It's quite ridiculous for me to owe anything of the kind."

"I'm not a thief. I've bought it after all."

"So what?"

"It's a gift. You can't give it back. It brings bad luck."

"Never heard such a thing. Besides, you don't believe in bad luck."

"Meh."

She silenced him capturing his lips for a kiss. He responded eagerly, and the whole tiara business was momentarily forgotten.

"Patrick?"

He was busy tracing the bare skin above her collarbone with his fingertips, so he didn't answer at once.

"Jane?"

A frown creased his brow. "Woman, you can call me Jane only when we're at work. I'm Patrick at home, remember?"

"I did use your first name before."

"Had things to do."

"Like what?"

"Admiring your perfect skin."

He placed his lips where his fingers had been a moment before.

She giggled. "You're tickling me. Stop."

"Don't think so."

Her fingers threaded through his hair. "May I ask you a question?"

"Sure. Just fire ahead."

"Can you tell me about the people you trusted in your past?"

For a moment she was afraid that he might be upset. Then he propped on his elbow and gazed directly into her eyes.

"I lost my mother when I was three. Don't remember much about her – except that I felt safe when I was with her."

Teresa brushed a stray curl from his brow, her eyes silently inviting him to carry on.

"Didn't trust my father instead – and with reason too. He… wasn't exactly a good person, you know."

"I can imagine."

Their fingers entwined almost of their own accord.

"Had some friends between carnie people – but they weren't precisely reliable or anything of the kind. It happens when you try to con everybody else all the time."

"Then you met Angela."

"Yeah." His voice was nothing more than a whisper now. "She had those honest, caring eyes… I would have trusted her with my own life. That's why we ran away together."

"You were happy with her."

"I was. And yet I betrayed her trust."

"Patrick, don't…"

He shook his head slightly – without breaking eye contact.

"I'm not talking about Red John only. Angela wanted me to quit psychic trade. She begged me to stop, Lisbon – for Charlotte's sake as well as hers. But I didn't."

It was odd that he always called her Lisbon whenever he wanted to be completely honest with her. She found it quite touching somehow.

"You did it for her, didn't you? You wanted the money for her and your little daughter."

A sigh escaped from his lips – as he rested his forehead in the crook of her neck.

"It was the best way of making money I knew. I thought I could give them the kind of life I'd never had. I ended up getting them killed instead."

"It wasn't your fault."

"Yeah, whatever."

Her hand forced him to look into her eyes again.

"It wasn't, Jane. Stop wallowing in guilt and self-loathing."

"Okay."

"I'm being serious."

"Okay."

They were silent for a while – as she rocked him gently against her shoulder.

"Who else did you trust, Patrick?"

He nuzzled her neck affectionately. "You."

"Apart from me, I mean."

She could tell that he was slightly puzzled now.

"Well, I kind of trusted Sophie Miller at the time I met her. Sort of anyway. She helped me as I went through a rough patch, that's all."

"And what about other people?"

"Of course I've gotten used to trusting Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt. Not quite as much as I trust you though."

Another silence fell as she tried to fight back the lump in her throat. It broke her heart to think of how lonely he'd been throughout the better part of his life.

He brushed away a treacherous tear lingering on her cheek.

"Teresa, it's okay. You don't have to be sad about my past. Both of us have our respective burdens to carry. That doesn't mean we can't try and be happy – together."

She smiled and placed a light kiss at the corner of his mouth.

After all they'd been through, they surely deserved their little place in the sun. It wasn't going to be all roses, but they were finally together. They were each other's family now.

That was all they needed. Well, with the possible exception of just one thing – though she herself couldn't actually make up her mind about it.

She sighed contentedly as Jane hugged her to his chest and buried his face into her hair.

"You know what, darling?"

"Mm?"

"I would even trust you with my child – admitted that you'd be okay with it."

Teresa gasped softly as she met his sparkling blue eyes. He could still surprise her with his weird skills at guessing exactly what was going on in her mind.

She supposed she could get used to that after all.


End file.
